Uno in a Dhoti

The past couple of weeks, our presence here in Chavadi has been complimented by that of our host mother’s father, lovingly known by all as “Appa,” the Tamil word for “father.” Appa knows about as much English as I know Tamil, but he’s expert at reading faces, intonations, and hand gestures. I always felt like he and I had a special bond. Whenever passing by, he always made sure to bobble his head and smile at me, and I would always either wave, or bring my hands together in front of my face and say “Vanakam” (the traditional local greeting). Yes. We had something special.
Appa recently disappeared from life here in the village. Two days ago he was here. Yesterday, he was not. He never even said good bye.
However! This is actually not the point of what I have to say today. Appa will be back, and I will again, someday soon, bobble my head at him, and give him my warm regards. But until then! I intend to describe to you the wonder that is endearing old men in India. I, sadly, have not as yet encountered many of these wonderful children of God, but all that I have interacted with have been adorable.
May I first describe the common apparel here in India? I think I have already mentioned the salwars—I have, by this point, memorized the common term for them here…churidars. These outfits include a long shirt, usually down to the knees or past, with some amazing pants that are unlike any other, and a scarf. This is what I wear on a daily basis. Young children wear western clothes, but as they grow (I would guess it is around puberty?), they are expected to wear the traditional clothing (with the exception of wealthy city-dwellers). At this point…whatever that point really is…the girls begin wearing the churidars. Here, the churidars are worn until marriage, when a girl becomes a woman and dons the famed saree. The saree is that loooooong piece of fabric wound intricately around the women. It is worn on top of an underskirt and a saree top (a very short blouse, which covers the shoulders and chest of the woman where the saree does not always).
The men, though…the men are slightly different. Most men in the city wear pants. All students wear pants. But if you are a man in the village, or an old man anywhere, you get to wear a dhoti.
A dhoti is an amazing little thing. It’s like a miniature sheet. It is wound and tied tightly once around the waist. It can then be worn like that, as a piece of fabric tied around the waist, reaching to the ground. This seems to be the more casual, or sometimes the more…maybe the younger look? I haven’t quite gathered that yet…but no. It is not the normal look. The common dhoti wearer then picks up the hem of the dhoti in both hands, and pulls it up around his waist. He usually flaps it around for a few minutes. I have a few theories on this flapping of the dhoti. I think it may be used as a method to shake out excess folds, or perhaps simply a cooling mechanism. Whatever the purpose may be, it happens whenever a man reties his dhoti (which is quite often). Once he has flapped sufficiently, he then ties the dhoti once more around his waist, and is fully dressed.
Well, ok, the dhoti is at least then sufficiently secured. It is actually most often worn on top of a pair of very short shorts. Most men wear some type of top with it. In the village while working at the shops, some wear a white tank. But the dhoti is almost always worn with some version of a button-up, collared shirt. It’s an interesting combination, yes. But I feel that way about a lot of India.
(sadly, my time has run out, and I must leave this blog to be continued later…)